By Your Side I Will Be
by EmAnnie01
Summary: "He had been the closest thing to a father she had ever had; Nikki could say that much with considerable conviction. She had lost two fathers in as many years, but the death which haunted her the most was of the father who was not really a father at all." Nikki's ponderings the night before Leo's funeral.


**By Your Side I Will Be**

_"Hi Nikki, it's me, it's Harry… listen… I'm so sorry, this wasn't exactly how I planned on telling you, via answer phone message, but seeing as you're out… damn it, I'll just come out and say it… there's been a bloody hurricane warning out here, all flights grounded. I'm not going to be able to get out of the country in time for the funeral, I'm so, so sorry, I've tried everything, it's no good. Listen… I just thought I needed to tell you I'm not going to be able to make it as soon as possible, there's more I need to say but I'll tell you that when I can talk to you properly, call me as soon as you get this? Please? OK, speak to you soon, bye."_

It was something of a disaster, Nikki Alexander mused sorrowfully to herself, sat all alone in a cold, uninviting kitchen she barely recognised as her own. Too clean, too clinical, too… organised, that was the problem. Under normal circumstances, obsessive tidiness was something she reserved for the cutting room, though a loss of all sense of purpose since touching down from Kabul almost a week ago now had left her so desperately in need of a distraction that for the first time, Nikki had found herself bringing the habit home with her.

Nikki's first day back in London had been spent clearing out each and every one of her kitchen cupboards, reorganising and rearranging the contents over and over before placing it all back exactly where it had come from, her movements mechanical, diligent, more than a little despairing.

She had needed something, anything, to distract her from the horrific images burned into her mind so aggressively that they haunted her each and every time she closed her eyes.

It hadn't worked. If Nikki had learned nothing else since arriving home from Afghanistan, it had been this: that no amount of rearranging and reorganising of the nonessential details of her life could succeed in distracting her from the horror of Leo Dalton's death for more than a few minutes at a time.

The only way Nikki could even begin to describe the cycle in which she currently found herself trapped was as not dissimilar to a nightmare, to being trapped in a state of sleep and unable to pull herself back to consciousness. She was aware that the memories which flashed through her mind in slow motion, as though taunting her, had ceased to be her present and were now merely a memory, but powerless to stop herself from reliving those harrowing moments in which Professor Leo Dalton had been lost forever.

He had been the closest thing to a father she had ever had; Nikki could say that much with considerable conviction. She had lost two fathers in as many years, but the death which haunted her the most was of the father who was not really a father at all. A father figure was perhaps a more accurate description, a man she had found herself willing to confide in where her own father had been out of the question for more than two decades.

She had been unable to cry at first when her own father had died. Nikki had been rather ashamed of it, her inability to feel anything much in the way of an emotional loss when she had first received that ominous phone call from the South African police regarding Victor Alexander. But shame had failed miserably to trigger something of a reaction within her. It had been months before she had been able to cry, and even then that ability had been short-lived.

It didn't mean she was emotionally aloof. It didn't mean that after everything her father had put her through since his departure from her life as a blissfully innocent child, she had lost all compassion in her heart.

She wasn't cold and uncaring, no matter how much the evidence might be leaning in the favour of that particular diagnosis.

She simply hadn't thought of her father as much of a parent at all for a long, long time prior to his death. She had grieved for him as an acquaintance rather than as her father, for that, Nikki had concluded long ago, was a title which had to be earned. Any man could be a father biologically, but it took something more to be considered worthy of that title in an empathetic capacity.

Nikki's emotional reaction to Leo Dalton's death had posed such a stark contrast to that of her father that an overwhelming, almost suffocating sense of guilt had consumed her.

She was a terrible daughter.

She must be. Little else could be inferred from the fact that while the death of her father had resulted in a mere heavy feeling in her heart as far as lasting effects were concerned, that of Leo Dalton had left her feeling so shaken, so alone, so lost and without direction that Nikki failed to fathom exactly how anything could possibly be alright ever again.

Nikki would never dare admit it, but Harry Cunningham's impending arrival, or so she had thought, had been one of very few things keeping her going over the course of the past week. Was it awful that she was even looking forward to seeing him, in spite of the solemn circumstances? She suspected that was the case, but there was little doubt in Nikki's mind that she would never succeed in forgiving herself for her ill-suited excitement at the prospect of seeing Harry Cunningham again either way. How could she have possibly allowed herself to eagerly anticipate the arrival of her former best friend, given that his reappearance in her life was solely due to the death of their colleague and close friend?

At least, it had been. Because now, thanks to a domineering, seemingly unbeatable force of nature, Nikki would be left to brave Leo Dalton's funeral all alone, lacking in the moral support she so desperately needed to see her through.

But was it nature? The force which had rendered Harry Cunningham stranded in Manhattan, New York, was the all-powerful force of Mother Nature truly to blame? Or perhaps the same overwhelming power was to blame for each and every one of the catastrophes in the world, everything from Leo's death to Harry's grounding in America, every little disaster and devastation since time itself began.

Fate; that was the force Nikki was currently considering charging guilty as far as the current traumas in her own life went. Fate… it was a curious concept. The mere proposal that each and every twist and turn life saw fit to throw at an individual was somehow predestined, out of the control of the individual themselves and left to be decided by something else altogether; there was something selfish about it, or so it could be argued. Fate was mankind's scapegoat, a means of rejecting all responsibility, a safety blanket of sorts. Man could hide behind fate and pretend to himself and the world around him that he had played no role in the destruction of all he cherished, that no one was to blame but a mysterious, inexplicable force.

Perhaps it was fate which was to blame for it all, Nikki concluded with something of a deep, despairing sigh merged with a hopeless sob. Fate had chosen yet again to deal her a quite frankly cruel hand of cards; so soon after losing her Harry to a professorship in New York, she had lost the second and final person in her life she had been close to, the only person she had left who she could truly depend upon to always be there for her, no problem too tremendous, nothing too trivial. There was no one left that Nikki trusted with her greatest fears to even a fraction of the extent to which she had trusted Leo Dalton. He might have been the closest thing to a father she had ever been fortunate enough to have in her life not too long ago, but now all that remained of that father-like figure were a coffin of ashy remains flown in on a private plane from Kabul. Once again, Nikki Alexander was as lost and alone as she had been so long ago when she had first entered the Thomas Lyell Centre with several trolleys' worth of Iron Age bones in tow, scolded initially for brushing her teeth in the cutting room.

The only difference was that the younger, far more naïve, wide-eyed version of herself had been rather a lot better at hiding that nagging loneliness beneath layers of innocence and enthusiasm. Strip away that and all that remained was a shell, an empty, broken shell of a human soul with little left to live for. That was what eight years of fate's cruel hand had caused her to become.

She was being selfish. How could she? How could she be so wrapped up in herself, in how her own life was going to change for the worse, when she was still alive and Leo Dalton was gone forever? She wasn't important, not when she still had her life to lead but nothing to do with it. Where was the justice in that? Leo had been far more successful than she had ever been according to a whole host of criteria; luckier in love, more successful career-wise, better-liked- the sheer numbers expected at his funeral tomorrow morning proved that much. Nikki dreaded to even contemplate the pitiful numbers which might attend her own funeral, and that was on a good day.

She was doing it again, making this about herself. It had to stop. What on earth had caused Nikki to believe she had the right to wallow in her own miseries, reflect on the lack of an impact her own life had made on those around her, now of all days, the night before Leo Dalton's funeral? She could dwell on the mess she had made of her own sole shot at existence once the following morning was over, when the man she had considered her father was buried and gone, returned to the earth and destined to be remembered for a time before fading to a mere handful of hazy memories, a neglected box of photographs gathering dust beneath somebody's bed.

Why did it scare her so much, the concept of being forgotten in death?

It was more than a little ludicrous, Nikki was only too aware of that. How could a pathologist be so terrified of the concept of death and all associated with it, given it was something she faced each and every working day of her life?

Deep down, Nikki knew the answer.

It was difficult to admit, threatening to make her feel even guiltier in the process.

But it was the truth; there was no hiding from it, however selfish it might make her out to be.

Nikki could cope with death perfectly well provided there was no emotional attachment between herself and the cold, still body on the cutting room slab before her.

But despite her aloof, detached manner of dealing with her 'clients', the fact remained that coping with the deaths of those she was closest to was something no amount of cool professionalism in the face of crisis could possibly prepare her for.

Leo's death was different. Leo's death had forced Nikki to see a side to loss of life she could just about succeed in ignoring from the other side of the cutting room glass window, the emotional scars which would remain long after any post mortem report was complete. She had been aware of it before, of course she had, but experiencing the trauma of losing someone so close first-hand was an altogether different experience.

She couldn't bear to think of him being gone. The thought that he would never again grace the corridors of the Thomas Lyell Centre, that his laughter was lost forever from the echoing passage between the locker area and the cutting room…

Nikki would never see Leo Dalton again. He was gone, dust in a coffin, shattered remains of a life destroyed by a seemingly-never-ending war for… god only knew what it was for; the violence had lasted so many years now, so many generations that perhaps no one could truly remember its basis. Leo Dalton was merely the latest victim in a long, long line, an endless list of lives wasted, ridiculed.

She would give up what remained of her own, worthless life if only it could bring Leo Dalton back.

It was hopeless. She was supposed to be writing a eulogy for the funeral the following morning, and yet all Nikki had was a disarray of thoughts and emotions and confusion, that and an inability to accept Leo Dalton was really gone forever.

How could he be gone? She needed him, she needed him more than ever before with Harry settling so well in Manhattan that the chances of him ever coming back to her now seemed rather pitiful, painfully unlikely. Nikki simply did not know what she would do without him, how she could even begin to go on without Leo, how she could live with herself knowing that they had both travelled out to Afghanistan together, each because the other was going, and yet she had survived and he was but dust…

And then she smiled.

There were some who believed in a life after a death, something beyond the pain and suffering of this mortal world. There had been a time, long ago, when Nikki had thought she believed in it too, though now she wasn't entirely sure what it was that she put her faith in.

Someone had once told her that it was in times of crisis that an old, forgotten faith was often rekindled, brought to the surface of a person's consciousness once more in order to help them cope with the harsh reality they now faced.

Perhaps it was a little ridiculous for someone like her, a pathologist who dealt with the dead on a daily basis. Yet right now, faced with the empty void in her life left behind by Leo and the overwhelming task of writing a fitting eulogy in the space of an evening, without her Harry to hold her together, somehow Nikki found the whole concept rather appealing.

Maybe there was some mysterious other reality which lay beyond death, maybe there wasn't. For now, perhaps forever, Nikki Alexander wasn't particularly concerned with whether or not it truly existed.

If it made her feel better to consider it a reality, then for now, she could live with the uncertainty.

Nikki pulled her knees up to her chest, lost in thought. He was with his family again now; at least, that was what she would like to believe. Leo, reunited with his wife and daughter, happy, smiling, care-free once more as he had been before the accident so many years before. She had barely known Leo at the time, having only been working at the Lyell Centre a few months. But she had known enough about him to realise that despite time being a great healer, the pain of losing his family had never quite evaporated into nothingness.

Was that the fate she herself was now sentenced to? Was she now doomed to repeat the path Leo had walked before her, getting over the death of the man she considered a father to a certain extent, able to recover and be happy again but scarred forever by her loss? Quite possibly, Nikki concluded with a sigh. A part of her now could begin to appreciate the pain Leo must have experienced upon the loss of his wife and daughter, yet she knew her loss of a man she had considered a father for the last eight years could hardly compare to that of a wife and daughter of so much longer all at once.

Surely, as awful a fate as it was to die in such awful circumstances, blown to pieces in an Afghan village, being reunited in death with a family long gone and sorely missed could compensate just a little?

Perhaps it was ridiculous, her little fantasy, her perfectionist vision of what life after death might amount to. But if it made her feel just a little better, Nikki pondered, then was that really so wrong?

He wouldn't want her to be unhappy. That was one thing Nikki _was_ sure of; no matter what, Leo Dalton wouldn't have wanted her to be unhappy. He would have wanted her to carry on with her life as though nothing had changed, would have told her as much, despite knowing full well that she would never even come close to succeeding. But he would want her to be happy despite him being gone from her life, Nikki was sure of it. No good dwelling on all that was dead and gone.

He was still with her. A lack of a mortal, physical existence didn't mean a disappearance from the physical world altogether, not necessarily.

She would think of him every time she struggled to reorganise the Lyell Centre filing cabinet, remembering with envy just how very organised Leo Dalton had been. She would think of him each and every weekday morning as the hands of the clock on her desktop approached eight AM, anticipating his arrival for half a moment before remembering he would never be walking through those doors again.

Whenever presented with a particularly baffling toxicology report, Nikki would attempt to think of what Leo would do before beginning to proceed. When assigned a particularly nauseating police officer for a nightmare of a case and struggling to recall exactly why she had signed up for this job, Nikki would do her utmost to imagine what words of wisdom Leo might have come up with, what he might have said in an attempt to make her feel better.

He had been almost as skilled as Harry Cunningham when it came to making her feel better.

Almost.

Nikki ripped off the top sheet of paper on her notepad with an almost triumphant flick of her wrist, scrunching it into a ball and hurling it across the room. Somewhat cliché, but entirely appropriate given her sudden surge of inspiration.

Suddenly the prospect of this eulogy wasn't quite so daunting. Still Nikki was a little terrified at the prospect of having to struggle her way through a speech without breaking down completely and embarrassing herself, though writing the eulogy itself no longer presented such an issue to her.

He was still with her, as long as she remembered him.

He would want her to be happy.

And if nothing else, she owed it to Leo to attempt to carry on as normally as possible, working around the void he had left behind.

She would try to be happy. If all else failed, she had her fantasy of a safe haven after death, of happiness and reunion with loved ones long-lost.

Maybe, just maybe, Nikki might even have her Harry back for a few precious days, possibly a week, as soon as that god-damned hurricane cleared over New York City.

It was going to be alright eventually.

One day.

One day soon.

**_'Don't be sad, be glad, be happy for me,_**

**_I'll be home come sundown, in a land where I'm free,_**

**_Though you think you're alone, by your side I will be,_**

**_Don't be sad, be happy for me.'_**

**_Be Happy For Me, The Kinnardlys_**

* * *

_A bit different I know, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Somehow I needed to make Leo's death seem just a bit more bearable, and this was what I came up with. Not to mention I had to come up with some sort of an explanation for Harry's absence at the funeral, don't even get me started on that one. _

_There will be another chapter of Our Version Of Events later in the week, I was going to be working on that today but then I finally managed to sort the mess of ideas I had for a oneshot in the aftermath of Leo's death into this and wanted to get it written down, hope you don't mind. _

_Reviews would be wonderful, especially as I know it's a bit weird. Seriously, I'd love to know what you think :) _

_Em xx_


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